Halt's Story
by Nightshade2412
Summary: 17 year old Halt has to leave his homeland and escape to Araluen, but he won't receive a warm welcome into the Ranger Corps - or should I say the social club for rich nobles? Can he change them in time to meet the rising threat of Morgarath? WARNING: CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR BOOKS 8 & 11.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: The basis of this story, the original Ranger's Apprentice books, came from John Flanagan's brain. **

Halt stuffed the last few items into his already-full bags. He buckled on his knives- the throwing knife and saxe his mentor, Pritchard, had given him – in their closely set scabbards, and strung his massive longbow. Slinging his quiver onto his back, he picked up his bow and his bags and turned to leave.

"Going somewhere?"

At the sight of his mildly curious, pompous ass of a twin, something in Halt boiled over.

"Yes! Yes, I am going somewhere. I'm leaving, see?"

"Leaving? Why?"

"Because,you fool, I don't care about the throne. But you do. In fact you're willing to kill me for it!"

"I don't know what you mean." Ferris said the words just a shade too quickly.

"Really. So those poisoned shrimps were actually spoiled, were they? And the fallen tiles – an accident, I presume?"

"Well – yes!" Ferris was beginning to sound panicked.

"Then the way you shoved me out of the boat. I suppose that was an accident too?" he continued relentlessly.

"You can't prove anything!"

Halt snorted. "If I could, I wouldn't be leaving," he replied. "_Goodbye."_

He shouldered his way past, leaving his brother gaping behind him, and hurried down the wide carpeted stairs. Mercifully, Ferris made no attempt to follow him. Halt was amazed at how quickly the argument was over – usually, it took ages. But he still felt like precious time had been lost. There was no particular reason for it; he was merely anxious to be away from his family's home in Clonmel before anyone could stop him.

There was another reason as well. Before going to pack, he had dropped into Pritchard's rooms. Finding his mentor absent, he'd scribbled a note and left it there: _Please meet me by the back entrance as soon as possible. Halt o'Carrick. _He didn't know why he signed his full name. It was just a habit, possibly resulting from his hated position as Hibernia's crown prince. That position had also lead to his need for punctuality, and he never liked to keep Pritchard waiting.

All the same, he was glad to see Pritchard already standing by the gate when he arrived.

"You found my note, then." It was a statement, not a question.

"Naturally, considering that I watched you leave it there," Pritchard said dryly.

"What? But I looked for you and-" Halt stopped abruptly. He had been about to say 'and you weren't there' but had realised that Pritchard obviously had been there. He shook his head ruefully, astounded by his mentor's uncanny way of appearing invisible – two words that contradicted each other, he reflected. He had known of Pritchard's skill before, but Halt liked to think of himself as observant and it surprised him that anyone could escape his gaze in the confines of two rooms.

Pritchard guessed accurately what was going through Halt's mind and forestalled his next question.

"I hope you don't think I was rude to hide, but I guessed what you wanted to talk about. Walls may not have ears, but people do."

Halt nodded. "I'm leaving," he told Pritchard bluntly.

"Yes, I thought you were. With your father dying, the situation concerning Ferris is likely to become out of control."

Halt was surprised again.

"You know about that?" he asked.

"Obviously." It was the sort of dry reply Pritchard made sometimes. Unbeknownst to Pritchard's young student, Halt was starting to copy it. He always had been a quiet person and the mannerism suited him.

"I wish I could do something about it, but I'm afraid I just don't have enough influence to make them believe us."

"Against Ferris? Mummy's pet, Daddy's darling…" Halt trailed off bitterly. "But I should look on the bright side: at least Caitlyn knows." He said the words with a trace of irony.

"Ah yes, your little sister. Speaking of whom, here she comes now," Pritchard replied.

Halt turned, delighted to have an opportunity to say goodbye even though he'd decided against it – until he realised that she was absolutely furious.

"Halt!" she hissed, afraid to shout in case they were heard. "Why didn't you tell me you were leaving, you… numbskull!"

"Cat, I-" He didn't get any further. Caitlyn knocked the wind out of him with a punch that was surprising for such a small girl, then burst into tears, her anger giving way to the grief she felt at parting with him. She was thirteen, and old enough to understand the situation, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

Halt folded her up in his arms, where she clung to him, sobbing.

"Kitten, I wanted to tell you, I really did. But Ferris-"

"I don't care about Ferris!" she cried wildly. "Let me come with you."

For a moment, Halt was taken aback. Then, sadly, he shook his head.

"No. You must stay here." He raised a hand to check her protests. "With Father dying, Ferris will claim the crown. You have to make sure that he doesn't _completely _destroy the country. And Mother will need your support, as I imagine Ferris will be too busy polishing his horse-tack crown." They both smiled weakly at the picture of their brother with the headband of plaited leather that served as Clonmel's crown, then saddened as they realised what it meant.

"Look after him for me," Caitlin said, turning to the older man behind them. Pritchard had watched them without a word, but now he smiled and said,

"I will, my dear."

Halt frowned at him.

"But you're not coming either," He said.

"Then why are there _two _horses saddled outside the gate?" asked Caitlin.

Halt stared at her, then at Pritchard, then went to the gate and looked around it, before returning his gaze to Pritchard. His mentor smiled at him.

"I had the foresight to guess your business and decided it would be a good idea to prepare. I do hope you aren't planning on turning my offer down, as it would be rather awkward to be seen unpacking everything again after going nowhere."

"Ferris knows, Caitlyn knows, _you _know. Is there anyone who doesn't know in this accursed castle?" Halt muttered.

"Wait – you said Ferris knows?" Pritchard seemed suddenly worried.

Halt nodded glumly.

"We had an argument," he told his mentor.

"That's how I knew," added Caitlyn. "I was standing outside and heard them." She stepped forward and embraced him, then walked past, half blinded by tears. Halt followed and watched as she checked the girths on his horse, and whispered in its ear. He resisted the urge to check the girths himself, realising it would be insulting to Caitlyn, and swung up into the saddle. Pritchard was doing the same.

"Bye, Cat," Halt said, his voice breaking. "I'll miss you."

Caitlyn smiled back but didn't say anything. Pritchard touched his feet to his horse's flanks and they trotted away, leaving Clonmel, and Caitlyn, behind.

As he and Pritchard crested a knoll, Halt reined in his horse and turned to look back. Caitlyn was still standing outside the gate where they had left her. As he watched, she lifted a hand to wave, then slipped inside the castle grounds and closed the gate softly behind her.

"We should get moving." The voice behind him made him jump. He turned and saw Pritchard indicating the scene below. He looked back and saw several servants hurrying in the yards. Even from where he was he could hear his name being called. It wouldn't be long before men were sent out looking further afield.

They wheeled their horses round and cantered down the hill.

"So how did you manage to hide from me that well?" Halt questioned his mentor when they were camping for the night.

"You remember me telling you about the Araluen Rangers?"

Halt nodded.

"I've already taught you a lot of their skills: archery, map making, the knives, even the Couriers' Signal Code. But it never seemed appropriate to teach you Unseen Movement, even though it's one Rangers' chief skills."

"You're certainly very good at it," Halt remarked.

Pritchard bowed his head in acknowledgement of the compliment. He looked up mischievously at the teenager.

"Well, yes. After all, most of the field workers and such considered us to be black magicians."

"Considered? So they don't anymore?"

Pritchard sighed. "Standards have slipped a little. That's why I… left."

If Halt had noticed the hesitation, he didn't question it. Instead, with some determination, he said,

"Then I'd better join and pull it back up again."

For a moment Pritchard looked surprised. Then he laughed.

"You do that, boy. You've certainly got the spirit for it!" As an afterthought he added, "I'll start teaching you Unseen Movement tomorrow."

With that, they rolled themselves into their blankets and fell asleep.

**A/N Please review and tell me your honest opinion! Thanks :-) **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Look to John Flanagan, guys...**

Halt groaned as he rolled out of his blankets the following morning.

"Rested and ready to go, are we?" asked Pritchard cheerfully from by the small campfire.

Halt stood up, gratefully accepting the mug of coffee Pritchard offered him but grimacing when he realised they hadn't brought any sugar or even honey.

"Not really," he answered, "and my shoulder hurts like hell where Ferris hit it."

Pritchard's features were creased with concern.

"I hope it won't cause you any lasting problems," he said. "I'll take it easy today, all the same."

Halt suddenly remembered. "Will you start teaching me unseen movement?" he asked eagerly.

Pritchard smiled and nodded.

"At least that will give you a chance to escape the jolts from that uncomfortable beast called a horse," he added, and Halt groaned again at the thought of riding.

But that didn't mean he would escape the ordeal. Within half an hour they had saddled the horses and started again on the road away from Halt's former home. Pritchard was worried that Ferris would have sent men after them, and for the first hour he kept to a steady canter. Then they slowed to a walk and closed the gap between the horses so Pritchard could talk to the Hibernian ex-prince.

"Over there," he said, is a much easier place to remain unseen than in the meadow around us. Why?"

"There's more cover," Halt answered immediately.

"Exactly. So it's simple enough to become virtually invisible in there, if you know how. Which is why I'm going to start teaching you to remain unseen," he added, "in the meadow."

"What?! That's impossible!" Halt exclaimed. Pritchard merely raised an eyebrow. "Sorry," his student muttered.

Pritchard reflected on how Ferris would never have been so quick to apologise. That young man didn't have the discipline to become a Ranger… well, not one of the old Rangers, at any rate. His twin, though Pritchard didn't say it to him, had qualities that could make him one of the best.

Pritchard realised that Halt was watching him anxiously, perhaps worried the silence meant his outburst had offended him in some way. He smiled to reassure the younger man, then reached into a saddlebag and drew out a bundle of green and grey cloth. When it was shaken out, Halt could see that it was in fact a long, hooded cloak. After slipping it over his shoulders, Pritchard dismounted and Halt his horse's reins.

"Nothing's impossible, boy. Look over there for a minute, then try to spot me." When he was sure Halt was doing what he asked, the ex-Ranger turned and glided silently into the grass.

Meanwhile, Halt tried to count seconds accurately in his head, at the same time as listening out for movement behind. But the wind was gently stirring the grasses, and he couldn't separate the rustles of that from any slight sounds Pritchard might have made.

When he judged that the minute was up, he turned round to study the meadow. It looked completely empty. Wondering if his mentor had made it to the trees in the time, he stared at them, trying to see if anything moved among the trunks.

He gave up. After all, it defied the point of the demonstration. Pritchard was showing him how to hide in a meadow, not a wood. He brought his gaze closer. Perhaps the old Ranger was lying flat in the grasses, or behind that rock…

The rock! Halt could have sworn it hadn't been there earlier. He noticed that it was the same colour as Pritchard's cloak. Well, colours, anyway. Almost certain he was right, he urged the horses into a trot towards the shapeless mound. It stayed motionless.

A worm of doubt entered his mind, and, when he reached the rock, he stretched out a hand to touch it. It burst into a flurry of movement. Before he knew what was happening, he lay on the ground, staring upwards.

"Very good," said Pritchard, "but you must remain on your guard all the time."

The days went by as they travelled slowly towards the east coast. Under Pritchard's instruction, Halt soon became proficient to a certain degree in unseen movement. His lessons often took several hours, so it was more than three weeks since they left Clonmel when they finally arrived at a port town.

They rode slowly through the cobbled streets, attracting the odd curious glance because of their horses, but otherwise getting little attention – strangers were common at a harbour. As it was already growing dark, they found a cheap inn to spend the night. With the horses settled, they entered the smoky interior of the main room. Hostile faces turned towards them, but decided they weren't a threat and resumed their business.

Pritchard paid for a room, and, when he and Halt were settled, they began to talk. Despite Halt's protests, Pritchard soon made it clear that he wouldn't be accompanying the young Hibernian to Araluen, for reasons of his own. He quickly changed the subject after that, and spent the rest of the evening instructing Halt on the workings of Araluen and also anything else he felt would be useful, crammed into a few hours. It was almost midnight when they finally fell asleep.

The next morning, they quietly slipped out of the inn and made their way to the docks when it was just beginning to grow light. There, they eventually found a ship that would take Halt to Araluen. While Pritchard bartered with the captain – one Connor o'Ryan – for the price of passage, Halt helped two swarthy sailors settle his horse. He returned to see his mentor hand over a small pile of gold coins to the captain, before pulling the ex-prince into a bear hug.

"Good luck, Halt," Pritchard murmured. "Show those lazy louts what it means to be a Ranger."

"I'll do that," Halt replied, realising that he meant the words. "Thanks for everything, Pritchard."

O'Ryan, who had withdrawn to a tactful distance during the exchange, now stepped forward.

"Step aboard or I'll go without ye. I'm not waiting 'till next tide, ye know.

The young man pulled away and walked up the gangplank, pausing to wave a final time to the older man on the jetty.

"Godspeed, Halt," his friend called.

The words echoed in Halt's mind as he faced the horizon – towards Araluen.

**A/N Sorry I took so long to update, I'll try to write quicker but I 'm not promising anything. However, I should have more time with the Summer Holidays coming up.**

**Thank you, everyone who has reviewed. I hope you've been reading this chapter too. Reviews make me happy. To those who think that Halt is a bit off, I've made plans for his transformation into the grim man we all love. I've changed the rating just in case, but I won't do anything worse than John Flanagan does.**

**Please review! :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Mr John Flanagan is the owner of the world of Ranger's Apprentice. After all, this is ****_fan_****fiction.**

There was something wrong.

The movement of the sea seemed exaggerated to Halt, every time the ship dropped sending his insides flying. He felt a strange feeling in his throat and frowned. It was so unfamiliar to him.

Suddenly a memory came flooding back to him, of a state visit to the Celtican court with his parents when he was eleven. They'd had to go on a ship then, and he seemed to remember hanging over the side quite a lot…

Rising from his seat on one of the rowing benches, he stumbled over to the railing just in time.

After a while, he became vaguely aware of the captain laughing.

As the sun approached its zenith, the small trading vessel reached the tiny Araluen fishing village of Selsey. Connor o'Ryan was planning to continue further north up the coast, but he moored the boat to drop Halt off and so the crew could have a hot meal on land.

Halt stumbled ashore at the first opportunity. He swayed slightly, still feeling the motion of the ship beneath his feet, and leant gratefully against his horse's neck as he waited for it to pass.

"Halt, isn't it?" said o'Ryan. "Why don't ye join us for lunch? On me, o' course. Chicken, perhaps, or, beef stew, with carrots and beans and potatoes…"

Halt groaned inwardly at the thought of food, as o'Ryan was obviously hoping he would. However, he knew he should eat something, and here he was being offered a free meal, so all he said was, "It's more likely to be fish around here."

His prediction proved true. The village's dark eating house served them with plates of some kind of fish which Halt couldn't identify. To his more refined tastes it was pretty bland, but it was hot and that was what mattered just then.

During the meal Halt said very little, preferring to listen to the sailors' extraordinary tales from their travels. But, as he accepted a mug of coffee, o'Ryan addressed his young guest.

"So, Halt, what brings ye to Araluen?"

"Come to seek my fortune," he replied, shrugging. He sensed it would be a bad idea to mention the Rangers. "Maybe I'll join the army, if I can't find anything better."

"Aye, ye could be a good soldier," o'Ryan said seriously. He paused, then added, "I'd be tempted to invite ye to join my crew, but I'm not sure ye have … ahh … _stomach_ for it." A few sailors .laughed. Halt forced a chuckle and, after a moment, it came naturally.

The sailors began to rise and make their way out. Halt tightened the girth on his horse and led her behind him as he walked to see the traders off.

"Any advice on where to go now?" he asked o'Ryan.

The captain thought for a moment. "Ye could always try Gorlan. The baron there, Morgarath, is pretty powerful these days, so ye could probably get a decent job there. Not that I like the man much – reminds me of a snake…" He subsided with a shudder.

_A powerful baron means there's probably a decent Ranger, _Halt thought, though he didn't much like the sound of this Morgarath. He nodded his thanks and shook o'Ryan's hand, then, after wishing the captain farewell, he mounted his horse and trotted away – he'd only known Connor o'Ryan for a few hours, but the man was generous and had a good heart. He was sorry to leave him.

"It's just you and me now," he told the mare, suddenly feeling very small and lonely. He stroked the end of his longbow, finding comfort in the weapon.

Using the map Pritchard had given him, Halt found the Tarbus River and rode not far from its banks, heading eastward. He alternated between a trot and a walk – his horse, though she was one of the finest in Hibernia, couldn't up a quicker pace for long. It was growing dark, so Halt let her amble along slowly while he looked for a suitable campsite.

The mare shook her mane nervously. Patting her gently, Halt wondered what was troubling her – she was too well-trained to make such movements, which for some reason were not appropriate for state processions.

The answer soon became all too apparent, as a pair of burly men rounded the corner. They stopped in the middle of the road, so Halt reined in about forty yards away. He was close enough to hear one say, "Pretty horse that boy's got."

_Thieves! _Halt realised. Quietly, he took an arrow from his quiver and nocked it with as little movement as possible – he had learnt that that was what drew attention during his Unseen Movement lessons with Pritchard.

Halt was far enough away that the thugs didn't notice him nocking the arrow, but they saw the massive longbow in his hands.

"Put the weapon down, son," they called to him.

"What do you want?" he replied frankly. They exchanged grins and began walking towards him.

"Your horse." Halt caught a glimpse of light on metal – the thieves had knives and were probably going to murder him in exchange for a pile of gold.

Without thinking about it, Halt drew his bow and fired. One of the men fell, but the other continued to rush at him. He was too close now for Halt to shoot again. The Hibernian tossed the bow to one side, drawing his saxe instead. He stabbed out with it when the other man was only a couple of yards away.

The thug brought up his knife to block the blow but was too slow. Blood spurted from the wound in his throat, splattering Halt's hand. Lifeless, he dropped to the ground.

Halt stared at the scarlet blade in his hand, horrified by what had happened. After retrieving his bow, he urged his horse forward to where the other thief lay. The man was dead with an arrow in his chest. Halt, having dismounted to check, stumbled back drunkenly and swung himself into the saddle while still holding the bloody saxe. He cantered away, seeking to escape the sight of the men he had killed.

Half an hour later and several miles from the site, he came to a halt. The mare stood sweating, her head drooping.

"Sorry, girl," Halt murmured, dismounting. He wiped his hands and knife on a tuft of grass, then began to care for the horse slowly and methodically – unsaddling her and rubbing her down, then leading her to the Tarbus for a drink. He tethered her to a tree, found his blankets and settled himself. It was only then that he realised that he was shaking.

"What have I done?" he whispered. Not surprisingly, the horse didn't answer.

The faces of the thieves seemed to loom out everywhere in the darkness. Halt remembered the cruel expression on the one that had come closest. He remembered Pritchard telling him of some of the missions that he had done as part of the Ranger Corps.

If Halt became a Ranger, he would have to kill, time and time again, for the greater good. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

That was when Halt finally pushed away the remnants of the Crown Prince of Hibernia, though what had happened with Ferris still remained there, hidden by the new purpose he felt but embittering his life. Smiling was always an effort, an expression that few things could now drag out of him.

_In fact, _he thought, _maybe it's best if I don't smile at all. It's a distraction from what I should be doing._

It was time to find the Rangers.

**A/N Sorry about the gore, but then that was what triggered the rest of Halt's change. Yay, time for the sarcastic comments! Thank you reviewers, you make my day...**


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